Thick and Happy

I peel the perfume sampler from the magazine.
it’s a name I’ve never heard of,
another Italian who-ever-the-fuck creating
scents to attract the opposite sex.
scents like “Midnight Princess” and
“Dynamite.”
the girl on the cover looks like
some chick I went to college with-
all thick and happy looking.
I think her name was Lauren?
what was my name?
back then I used to paint
and I’d pass in my assignments with
hidden cocks etched into landscapes.
I’m sitting here on the bathroom floor
identifying women’s shoes as they
walk in and out.
Pseudo-Lauren smiles back at me
in her bright Chanel lipstick.
this is where I am.
Pseudo-Lauren gets a salty-teared
facial, dripping down her glossy dress.
this is where I am-
rubbing Italian sampler perfume
on my wrists
so I can pretend that I’m just
as valuable as the thick and happy model.

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